


The Days Afterward

by thepointsdonotmatter



Category: Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: M/M, and things unspoken, extreme repression, like pre-slash that never quite makes it to slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-15
Updated: 2020-08-15
Packaged: 2021-03-05 22:02:37
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,125
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25912546
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/thepointsdonotmatter/pseuds/thepointsdonotmatter
Summary: Davos had been there, during all moments that mattered. It was true: he could scarcely believe there was a whole swath of time before they’d met.
Relationships: Stannis Baratheon/Davos Seaworth
Comments: 3
Kudos: 30





	The Days Afterward

The ocean was calm, the way it always was after rainfall, and Stannis came to see him. 

“Is your hand healing well?” Stannis asked. 

“It is, my lord.” 

Stannis strode over to the window. He looked gaunt and pale still, despite the sunlight in the room. They were both young men, but the siege of Storm’s End had aged Stannis, Davos thought. It had left its mark on him. Davos felt at a loss. He was a man of the sea; it always soothed his ails, but he sensed Stannis only saw war and death when he looked out onto the water. 

Stannis said, “The war is over and now my brother, the King, summons me. Would you come with me to the capital?” 

“You needn’t ask,” Davos said. “I am in your service.” 

Stannis didn’t relax at that; if anything, his posture stiffened. His gaze seemed far away. “I would bear you no ill will if you wished to go to Cape Wrath, for a time. To see to your new keep, and your wife.” 

If any other lord said the same thing to Davos, he would be overcome with suspicion, wonder if it was a test of his loyalty. But he had never met a man as honest as Stannis Baratheon. He took a few steps forward, and when Stannis didn’t protest, kept going until they were side by side at the window. 

Stannis radiated no warmth, and Davos had a sudden urge to throw a thick woolen cloak over his shoulders. 

“My lord,” Davos said, breathing in the salty air, “We’ve haven’t known each other long, but I want you to know, I only say exactly what I mean.” 

Stannis’s brow unfurrowed. He nodded, and told Davos they would leave at dawn. 

\-- 

It was impossible not to compare everything against Flea Bottom as they rode through the gates of King’s Landing. He began to count all the luxuries he’d never known before. To think he had his own feather bed, and meals of game and cheeses and fruits – he laughed out loud, for sheer, selfish joy. 

But as the days passed, it didn’t take long for the noble folk throw him scornful looks. They didn’t bother to hide their laughs behind their hands. They stank of oils and perfumes and walked around in their gardens. 

They had seen so little of the world, and yet Davos was irritated to find he was the one feeling small. 

“Does my Flea Bottom accent bother you, my lord?” Davos asked Stannis one afternoon. They were walking along the shoreline in the shadow of the Red Keep. It was quiet, except for the familiar melody of the tide meeting the rocks. 

It was a sudden question, Davos knew, borne by worry and too much time to think, but he couldn’t help it. It was one thing to be a boy in the slums or a nameless smuggler, but to be in the company of a lord, and not just any lord, but the King’s brother— 

Stannis’s pace slowed, then stopped. Before he could answer, a squire approached, looking harried. Stannis’s presence was requested at a small council meeting. 

Davos could do nothing but watch him take his leave, the gravel crunching beneath his feet. There was a pit in his stomach, and he retired to his chambers early. 

The bed felt too soft now. It was like he was being swallowed up. He stared at the ceiling for some time before deciding, to hell with it. He sat up and started pulling on his boots. There were many good taverns in the city where he could dull his senses. 

Except when he wrenched open his door to leave, he was met with the sight of Stannis, one hand raised to knock. Davos couldn’t contain his surprise. Stannis seemed caught off guard, too, if the grimace on his face was anything to go by. 

“Did I forget an appointment, my lord?” Davos asked. He hoped Stannis didn’t notice the untidiness of his room. 

“No,” Stannis said, lowering his hand. “I wished to speak with you. There’s going to be a feast in two day’s time.” 

“Pardon my ignorance, but what is the occasion?” 

“It will be in Ned Stark’s honor, for successfully bringing the siege to an end,” Stannis said, the set of his mouth as harsh as ever. 

Davos exhaled. It was a slight, no doubt, but what he truly couldn’t stand was how resigned Stannis sounded. “My lord —” 

“I don’t care for feasts,” Stannis continued. “And I’ve long since stopped seeking Robert's approval. But he wants me there, so I’ll be there. And you’ll attend, too.” 

Davos felt a little more at ease. He wasn’t excited about the feast either, but at least he wasn’t being discarded. He could tell the other man meant to say more, though, so he waited patiently. 

“Ser Davos,” Stannis said. “You will start to become more familiar with the ways of the nobility, but I would not have you think you must change yourself for these people.” 

There was no air in Davos’s lungs; his fingers automatically reached up to stroke the pouch of bones around his neck. He looked at Stannis, at his clenched jaw lit up in the glow of the torches in the hallway, and he knew: he would die at this man’s side. 

That night, he slept as if he hadn’t slept for years. 

\-- 

There was no fanfare when Dragonstone was claimed, either. When Davos saw Stannis again, his face was more weathered, pained. He was prone to longer bouts of brooding, going deep inside his own mind where Davos could not follow. 

When he learned about the wedding, he thought the joy would split his chest. He thought lovingly of his own wife, and the happiness she brought him. As he watched Stannis and Selyse standing stiffly together, arm in arm, doubt creeped into his mind. 

Stannis barely spoke with his bride during the feast; it was as if he looked right through her, like she wasn’t there. Robert was taking up much of the attention, anyway, laughing and joking loudly, his cheeks flushed with drink. 

Davos caught Stannis’s eye from across the room and smiled, because Stannis found it hard to. He toasted him – to his health and happiness, to love and duty. 

He didn’t think Stannis smiled – he was too far away to tell – but slowly, cautiously, Stannis raised his glass. 

\-- 

“Do you have brothers?” Stannis asked. He was writing a letter but stopped suddenly, fixing Davos with a level look. 

“None that I knew,” Davos said. “They all died very young.” 

Stannis cleared his throat, looking away. 

“I should feel blessed, but I don’t. Renly is vain and ignorant, and Robert...” It was as if a shadow passed over his face. “We saw our parents die. We were both there that day. We saw their ship strike the bluff and fold beneath the waves.” 

“I’m sorry to hear that.” 

“We never spoke of it then, or now,” Stannis said, picking up the quill again. “Besides, he’s chosen Ned Stark as his brother, that much is true. He loved fighting with him. That’s what he knows best.” 

Davos kept his eyes trained on the things he knew to be words Stannis was creating on the parchment. “If only fighting could bring back the dead. All it does is add to their numbers.” 

“If only,” Stannis muttered. He kept writing, fast, clinical. He said nothing more. 

Davos stood – he knew he hadn’t been dismissed, but seeing all the scrolls of parchment stacked on the desk was making him uneasy. He should be the one reading them, sorting them, writing them at Stannis’s pleasure. His son’s voice rang in his ears, shrill – _c’mon, I’ll teach you! It’s not hard at all. See, this letter here is _—__

__“No, stay,” Stannis said. It was not an order. He said it as if it was a thought etched into his skull._ _

__Davos stayed._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__When he set foot on Dragonstone for the first time, Shireen was but a young child. Anyone would think she had taken after her father, yet Davos saw the way her face lit up when he sang her a simple song. Davos was not a good singer by any means, but Shireen clapped her hands and said, “Another, another!”_ _

__Davos racked his brains, but came up empty. He only knew how to raise sons, not daughters. And at Shireen’s age, all they wanted to do was run around and whack each other with sticks and rocks. Perhaps he could whittle a wooden figurine for her. She had few toys or playmates; it was no wonder she was so withdrawn._ _

__“How about a story, little princess,” Davos said. “I could tell you about the time I escaped from hungry pirates.”_ _

__Shireen nodded, but Stannis came into the room before Davos could start his tale. He had changed out of his sea-whipped clothes and into a grey tunic, though he still looked tired. Shireen immediately toddled over and hugged his leg. At that, Stannis did smile, a small smile. It was such a naked, private expression that Davos looked away, heart skipping, though the image stayed with him._ _

__“It’s time to sup, child,” Stannis said._ _

__The girl’s expression turned sullen. “Mother says I eat too much,” she said._ _

__Stannis frowned. “She should not say such things.”_ _

__Shireen scratched at her cheek, at the cracked, gray skin. Stannis knelt, pulling her arm down gently with his hand, the same hand that had swung the cleaver onto Davos’s fingers. “Don’t do that. Come, let’s go.”_ _

__“Can I listen to the Onion Knight’s story after?” Shireen asked._ _

__Stannis paused, but he seemed more bemused than angry. “You may.”_ _

__Dinner was a stuffy affair. Stannis ate quietly. It was clear Lady Selyse wanted to scold her daughter, but she was holding her tongue. Her eyes darted between the girl and Davos, as if she couldn’t decide on a target. She probably wished Davos would take his meal alone in his chambers, but she would not cross Stannis on that front, either._ _

__She does not like me, Davos thought. As soon as Stannis takes his leave, she will let loose._ _

__Sure enough, Selyse had no kind words for him._ _

__“Don’t know why you’re bothering with Shireen.”_ _

__Davos grit his teeth. “My lady?”_ _

__“She is an unpleasant girl. The last thing she needs is you filling her head with sinful stories about your time at sea. You’re a smuggler, not a sailor.”_ _

__“ _I was_ a smuggler, my lady,” Davos said, hoping he didn’t sound too curt. “But not anymore.” _ _

__Selyse scoffed. There were lines developing on her forehead already, and around her eyes. She had an ill-favored look about her. “To think, my husband prefers your company to mine.”_ _

__Davos detected remnants of sadness in her voice. He was surprised. He did not realize she felt something – anything – for Stannis._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__Shireen was on the shore with the maester, waving goodbye. Davos stood with Stannis at the bow of the ship, watching her fade into a pinprick in the distance, until she disappeared, and the castle and the bluff, too._ _

__A series of emotions flitted across Stannis’s face: relief at leaving Selyse, regret for leaving Shireen. A boldness seized Davos, and he placed a hand on Stannis’s shoulder, stepping close. Only certain people did this, in this world: brothers, friends, lovers. Davos did not know who Stannis saw him as. Part of him expected the other man to shake him off with a scowl._ _

__Stannis leaned into his touch, the motion shifting Davos’s hand up slightly, and he was touching the sinewy muscles of Stannis’s neck._ _

__“Tell me, Ser Davos,” Stannis said. Davos could scarcely hear his voice above the lull of the ocean. “Once your smuggled goods were delivered, how many times would you greet this kind of sunrise?”_ _

__The sky was a rare yellow-red, and the emerging sun a pure white disc. The heat was already upon them._ _

__“It does not matter,” Davos said, fingers curling, brushing Stannis’s skin again. “I only remember today’s.”_ _

__Stannis’s eyes slipped shut. Davos understood they would never get closer to crossing the line than this – they couldn’t, they wouldn’t – and so he didn’t move. He waited for Stannis to move away._ _

__

__\--_ _

__

__As the years made Stannis colder and sterner, Davos sometimes found himself thinking back to that day on the ship. As green fire rained down upon them, as the days grew shorter and entrenched in snow, he thought of the hot feel of Stannis’s pulse, the sleekness of the water._ _

__It had been a long summer that year, one of the last ones, and for a moment he had believed it would be endless._ _


End file.
